Sugar and Spice
by SylvenSilence
Summary: Everything's not... Sugar and Spice... and everything nice. 'I didn't mean for things to turn out this way.' DMHG. This will be sad. Not a happy ending.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

I never meant for this to happen

I never meant for this to happen. I know it doesn't make much of a difference, because it did happen, but you have to believe me – I didn't mean for things to turn out this way.

It was just a chain of events that lead to one another. No one could have foreseen this happening.

At least, that's what I tell myself. If I don't, I know I'll go mad.

The stories they'll write in textbooks- don't believe them. It didn't happen like that. Trust me. Please, for the love of Merlin, someone just _believe me_. I didn't want this to happen.

Maybe if I had just not given into temptation, not done it, everything would have turned out all right. But then again, maybe it wouldn't have. Maybe things would have been worse.

I'll never forget that one incredible summer. That summer, he introduced me to so many things. Now, I see the world in shades of grey. There is no black and white, good and evil- simply people who win and people who lose.

And it's the winners that write the history; portray themselves as the 'good guys.' To find out the real truth, what really happened, you have to read between the lines.

So I'm writing this to keep my sanity, to put down what really happened. And I have to believe that it was irresistible; otherwise, how could I live or die knowing what I did.

This is my story.

**Yes, I changed the prologue. I have a different thread for this story to go along now. I think this is going to be one of my best stories yet. Chapters might come out slowly- I write them when inspiration strikes, then keep them for a bit to revise or rewrite. Sometimes I even get a whole new idea for the chapter. Like this. **


	2. Chapter 1: Memories

Hello, faithful readers

Hello, faithful readers! I now present to you the first chapter of Sugar and Spice and apologize for the long wait. I am debating changing the title, so tell me what you think. Give me any suggestions you have.

Chapter One: _The Past, the Present_

_In this world you tried  
Not leaving me alone behind  
There's no other way  
I'll pray to the gods let him stay  
The memories ease the pain inside,  
Now I know why_

All of my memories keep you near  
In silent moments  
Imagine you'd be here.  
All of my memories keep you near,  
Your silent whispers, silent tears

Made me promise I'd try  
To find my way back in this life  
I hope there is a way  
To give me a sign you're okay  
Reminds me again it's worth it all  
So I can go home

All of my memories keep you near  
In silent moments  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories keep you near  
Your silent whispers, silent tears

Together in all these memories  
I see your smile  
All of the memories I hold dear  
Darling, you know I'll love you  
till the end of time

All of my memories keep you near  
In silent moments,  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories keep you near,  
Your silent whispers, silent tears

All of my memories...

-Memories, Within Temptation

_(Present time): With a start, Hermione woke up and slammed her hand down on the alarm clock. Groaning, she got up and shuffled sleepily to the bathroom. She let the silence consume her mind as she stood under the shower spray, her mind blissfully blank. _

_**A**__fter her shower was over and she was dressed simply in dark blue skinny jeans and a long sleeved black ripped shirt over a deep red tank, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee her instant coffee-maker had made while she was in the shower. _

_With a sigh, she sat on a simple wooden chair at her matching table. Setting her coffee mug down, she groaned and rested her chin on her hands, elbows on the table's surface. Memories of that fateful day were strong today, she thought sourly. From experience, she knew they would not leave until she immersed herself in them, that they would simply haunt her day and night until she went crazy. _

_She glanced at her watch. An hour until I have to drive to work, she thought. I can do that. _

(Past time): There was a hush in the courtroom. People were crowded in, more than the room had been designed to hold comfortably. The judge and the jury were seated in their places. A thin, pale woman with curly brown hair sat in a chair proudly, her arms chained down. She stared at the judge calmly.

"Quiet! Order in the court. All of you that do not have a seat leave now."

Several groans were heard in the courtroom as people filed slowly out. When the last of them were gone, the judge spoke.

"Hermione Granger, you are hereby charged with the murder of Kingsley Shacklebolt. How do you plead?" Everyone turned to look at the young witch. For long moments she was silent. Then, her lips slowly parted.

"Guilty."

It was as quiet as a whisper carried off on the wind. It rolled easily off her tongue, she thought dispassionately. But then again, she had always been too skilled at lying for her own good. What could she do? That despicable man, whom she had _trusted_, had forced her to plead guilty. He had her parents. If she offered any inkling of the truth, he would kill them.

A lone tear trickled from her eye down to her cheekbone. No one _saw_.

I might have misjudged you once, Arthur Weasley, but I won't make that mistake with you or anyone else ever again, she vowed to herself, the silent promise stronger than any oath she could have taken at that moment.

_Sighing, she slammed her coffee cup on the table, shaking it, and glanced at her watch. Forty-five more minutes..._

It was another day. Again, the woman sat, chained to the chair. She held herself straight and proud, unafraid of the judge and jury, untouched by the malicious whispers.

"Hermione Granger?"

"Yes?" Again as quiet as a whisper. She couldn't bear to bring herself to speak louder.

"The jury has come to a decision. In light of the evidence, solid and circumstantial, and your plea, we find you guilty and sentence you to a life sentence in Azkaban for the murder of Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt.

At this, she felt a small bit of her old spirit come back to her. Like hell she would let herself be carted away to Azkaban for the rest of her life.

"I ask for a private audience with the judge and the jury."

In spite of himself, the judge looked interested. He wondered what she would say.

"Granted. Everyone but the guards, jury, and I, leave immediately." Grumbling, the witches and wizards slowly left the room.

"Judge, are you sure it is the best idea to send me to Azkaban? Some wizards might see me as the next Dark Lord, or Lady in this case, and try to break me out. Also, some people won't believe I murdered Kingsley and will fight to get me out of Azkaban. If they do, it will cause a huge scandal that will appeal to people of both mindsets: one, that you falsely imprisoned me, and two, that you let me, a criminal, out when I was guilty."

The judge looked thoughtful. Most of the jury looked convinced, but a few seemed skeptical. "Then what do you suggest, Ms. Granger?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose" here she paused, as if in contemplating something, "I suppose you could always ban me from the Wizarding World."

"Yes," the judge mused thoughtfully, "that could work. Almost all of the jury were nodding their heads, agreeing with him.

"Very well. In light of this new and stunning argument, I sentence you to permanent exile from the Wizarding World. Your wand will be snapped and disposed of, your textbooks taken away, and so forth and so on."

Hermione looked pained as she realized she would never again cast a spell, or brew a potion, or visit Diagon Alley. It's all for your own good, she reminded herself. What would you rather have, a cell in Azkaban or a Muggle life where you could become quite happy? You should look at this as a new start.

_She glared down at the surface of her table. Thirty minutes..._

She watched expressionlessly as they took all her wizarding robes, textbooks, potions ingredients, and any other magical items except her wand and Banished them. Then the man leading the people who were destroying her things picked up her wand.

'10 and a quarter inches, ebony, flexible, quite good any spells needed for Potions, wonderful for DADA and (here he had lowered his voice) Dark Arts, although you might not want to pursue _that_ part...'

Olivander's words as he had handed her the wand rang in her mind for a moment. She watched, eyes cold, as her wand was given to the Minister, Arthur Weasley, and snapped in half.

She would not let herself cry.

She looked around Muggle London. She wore tight, faded blue jeans, skateboard shoes, a ripped black tee over a dark blue cami, and wore black fingerless gloves. Hermione dropped her skateboard down and started cruising towards a flat she had purchased after her parents had died in fifth year. Who would have thought that in a little less than a year – for it had been December when her parents had died and she had bought the flat, and it was the October of sixth year now - she would be moving back in to her flat? Suddenly, she was glad she had read ahead so far she could have taken her NEWTS and passed them.

Hermione was forever grateful her parents had insisted she keep plenty of Muggle money 'just in case.' She hadn't had a lot of Wizarding money, but she had millions or billions from her inheritance. Well, that and her many modeling jobs. Curly hair was supposedly very chic now, and she had the 'perfect' figure for modeling.

She walked through the front door, dragging a couple suitcases full of her crap, and dumped them in her living room. Then, exhausted, she fell asleep on her bed.

_With a sigh, she looked at her watch, Time to leave for work, she thought. She grabbed her skateboard, slipped on her favorite black fingerless gloves, and ran out to the sidewalk. She threw the board down and pushed off. _

She remembered how she had gotten her job clearly. Although she had plenty of money, she would rather not spend most of it, preferring to work for a living. However, she had no idea what she could do. Her parents had let her take a few college courses over the summer, mostly writing classes, but she didn't have a degree in anything. Hell, she didn't even have a high school diploma.

So, she had enrolled in a high school and, being the over-achiever she was, taken as many classes as she could for the longest amount of time she could fit in. Two years after being thrown out of the wizarding world, when she was taking the rest of the college courses that would enable her to get a degree in creative writing and journalism.

She had gone to many newspapers before a small, shabby newspaper had accepted her, a girl of nineteen who hadn't worked anywhere before and had no resume. After working for that newspaper for six months, she had moved on to another newspaper, eventually climbing the ladder until she was working at one of the best newspapers in England. She was turning twenty one in September.

_She stopped her skateboard at the office and stepped off slowly, flipping it up and walking up to the office. Most people there didn't bother wearing proper 'work' clothes; instead, they chose to wear whatever was comfortable that they liked. Therefore, she got away with having blue streaks in her elbow length, wavy curly dark brown hair and wearing punk-ish / Goth-ish clothes. _

_**After **__work, she went home to flop down into a cushiony chair. She had been having a nasty headache all day, but had been able to write almost perfectly, so she had stayed. I should have said I was sick and gone home, even if I was writing phenomenally today, she thought. _

_She fell into a light sleep, moving until her one of her legs was up over the back of the chair, her head and one arm were over an armrest, her other leg was dangling in the space between the back of he chair and the armrest, and her other arm was brushing the floor. She slept until the next morning, when she awoke with a start at six A.M. _


End file.
